


cause you can hear it in the silence (you are in love)

by fortunatedaughter



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, drabbles and ficlets galore oh my
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 12:25:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8248897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunatedaughter/pseuds/fortunatedaughter
Summary: A collection of Mike and Ginny's first's. Rating subject to change.





	1. first date

**Author's Note:**

> this is one of my two 'summer projects' that i'm going to pace out over the summer and really kind of dedicate myself too, so there you go. the second of these projects'll be posted in the upcoming days once i give it a read over, yay! also important to note - all the drabbles that feature in this little archive are going to take place out of order, so you were warned.
> 
> as always, all typos & shitty sentence structure belongs to me while pitch & all it's characters does not.  
> title is from you are in love by taylor swift, which imo is a VERY ginny and mike song.

He’s aware, painfully so, of just how many people want to date Ginny Baker. He wasn’t previously so – he used to live in a quiet oblivion about the whole thing, but that was of course when he was pretending he wasn’t in love with her and he didn’t give a shit about who she dated.

(Lie. Mike Lawson is many things and a lot of those labels are accurate and well deserved, but no one can ever accuse him of not giving a shit when it came to Ginny Baker. Half of San Diego knew to face his wrath if his rookie’s heart got broken.) 

But now he’s the one dating her. He’s the one by her side when so many damn others have tried (he was there for a particularly memorable instance when Trevor tried to ask her out, again, and the complete and utter dismissal is possibly one of his all time favourite memories involving her.) and it’s – it chafes at him somewhat.

He wants to be there. He wants her. He’s long ago gotten over his fear of being with her because of the various issues they both have. (His age, her career, his morals, her grief.) But still. Something’s missing.

It hits him when he’s watching one of her games, when he’s out on the DL list because of his knee reconstruction surgery. He watches her throw a nasty screwball to the relief catcher Enrique Cruz while his knee subtly aches and it hits him.

Mike Lawson has never actually taken Ginny Baker out on a date.

* * *

“Hiya, rookie,” He grins, catching up with her just outside of the clubhouse.

(3 to 2, they beat the Diamondbacks quite nicely. It’s a struggle without their team captain to rally the group and Ginny and Blip are doing an okay job at it – but nothing really unites the Padres to work as one cohesive unit like Mike.) 

Pausing, Ginny turns around and decides to wait for him, leaning casually against the wall. “Lawson,” She retorts, amusement leaking into her tone. Her hands curl into fists, stuffed into the pockets of the training jacket – his, he notes with a tone of pride, and won’t Twitter have a goddamn field day with that – since they’d mutually agreed the field and the clubhouse was off limits to PDA. It was hard enough being the only two team members dating. It’s quite another to add their displays of affection into the mix. 

Dipping closer, one hand comes to rest one hand near her ear, caging her in without really doing so. A compromise, as it was. “What’re you doin’ tonight?”

“Take-out, old movies.” Ginny says slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Why?” 

Mike pauses. “You ever notice that for elite athletes we sure eat a lot of take-out?”

“Your point?” She raises an eyebrow.

He shrugged. “Just sayin’. Might be a nice idea to go out… or something.” 

Ginny’s narrowed eyes narrow even further, if it was at all possible. Then again, he used to think her fastball couldn’t top out in the high 90s when she wasn’t pissed but he was proven wrong. “Go out.” 

“It’s a thought.”

She merely stares at him for a moment, the wheels and cogs turning in her head before Mike can see the veritable light bulb go off above her head. “You wanna go on a date.”

He scowled. “Shut up.”

Ginny grins, eyes alight with amusement and genuine mirth. “ _Mike Lawson_ is asking **me** out on a date.” 

“Yes, I am.” His blunt response seems to throw her for a loop and Mike smirks with something akin to smugness – it’s good to know he can still throw her every now and then. 

Her lips press together and she nods softly. “…Alright.”

“Is that a yes?"

Ginny rolls her eyes. “You need me actually say the word?” 

He shrugged. “Well, I don’t need it, but it’d be _nice_ –” 

“Fine. Yes. Yes, I will go out with you. I might even wear a dress.” She smirked; ducking under his arm while Mike is left standing there, mind veritably choking on the image of Ginny - legs on display, smooth bronzed skin and shoulders bare: a stark difference from every other outfit he's ever seen her in when the two of them are in public.

“Pick you up at eight!” He calls out to her retreating form.

* * *

 All things considered, her outfit for the date is perhaps, one of the best things he’s ever seen her in. (And that includes the weekend earlier in the summer where the power went out and she wore nothing but his training shirt and her underwear.) The black skirt and flowy sleeveless blouse, is by most date outfits, understated. 

He’s learnt though that most world expectations he has about dates and dating, hell, even most world viewpoints, don’t really apply when Ginny Baker is involved. (First woman in the MLB and of course he should have fuckin’ expected she wouldn’t go full out for their first date. Of course.)

Within moments of arriving at the restaurant – a nice little place that’s high end enough where two elite athletes aren’t going to be out of place, but low-key enough that they can hide out together – Mike’s beginning to realize just how high profile the two of them are. 

Which he thinks is stupid because yeah, sure, between the two of them, they’ve broken about half a dozen records but. They’re still people. 

By the time a third person decides to snap a picture (they really aren’t being all that subtle) Ginny’s looking steadily more and more annoyed.

“This is insane.” She hisses over the top of the menu. “You realize that right?”

Mike doesn’t even look up. “Possibly, yes, but do you think I care?”

“No, just –”

“Just what, Ginny?” He questions, setting aside the menu to look her steadily in the eyes. “I’m on a date with the woman I’m ridiculously into and that’s all that matters to me.” He doesn’t give a shit that the other restaurant goers are tweeting and updating every social media platform known to man and that the inner-workings of their date was going to be sold to TMZ. He cared about her.

(He forgets sometimes, that she’s not used to this as much as he is. She’s been doing it for less time and already, she’s on her way to super-star status. He forgets sometimes because over the course of the last few years she stopped being First-Woman-In-Baseball superstar Ginny Baker and just became… Ginny, the pitcher with a mean screwball and a killer smile. It’s hard to reconcile the two people she has to be sometimes; even the third person, the one only friends and family get to see.)

“…You couldn’t have just cooked like a normal person?” She says after a moment, clearly chafing at the chattering tables next to her. (Are they talking about them, wondering what business the two of _them_ – star rookie and aging catcher – have being on **date**.)

“Do you wanna leave?” He raises an eyebrow.

Her head shakes softly, slightly, very much like how she calls him off in the field – a very clear no – and Mike smiles.

“So I’m thinking the chicken tacos.” He states, turning back to the menu and Ginny laughs. 

* * *

Walking along the corridor that leads to her apartment, Mike swings their intertwined hands between them, savoring the moment. It was a good date, one of the better one’s he’s been on over the years. They talked, they laughed, they ate and it felt like any other time when they went out with the guys, except, you know, he could hold her hand without the risk of the guys ribbing him about it later. “This was nice. We should do it more often.”

Ginny frowns, tapping away at her phone with one hand. “I think we’re trending on Twitter.”

Mike snorts. “I’m trying to be a nice, good romantic boyfriend here and you’re checking _Twitter_.”

She flinches, hitting the sleep button with a gentle click. “Sorry. Elliot texted me. Wanted to know what we did to get ‘Bawson’ trending in an hour.” 

Mike’s face screws up. “Bawson? The **fuck** is that?” 

She shrugged. “Our ship name.”

“Our ship name.” He says slowly. “When did we turn into boats and pirates?”

Ginny is silent for a moment, only to burst out laughing, the kind that starts in your stomach and leaves butterflies in its wake. “Oh, _old man_ , you still got a long way to go.”

 _Yeah_ , Mike thinks, _I do, but long as you’re there, that’s all that matters._

“You gonna be okay going in?”

Ginny snorted, “Yeah, I think the _three whole feet_ to my door is gonna be a struggle and fraught with danger.” 

“I’m just saying, I could help you inside… check behind the doors, in the closets.” His eyebrows raise, a clear undercurrent to his words. 

She seemingly decides to humor him, which really, wasn’t the mood he was going for here but he can adapt. He likes it when she laughs, when that little dimple peeks out. “And what could possibly be lurking my apartment?”

“…. _Things_ , Ginny.” 

“Things.” She snorts, the word sounding dubious.

“Yes. Things. It’d be the least I could do to check them.” He shrugged, his fingers intertwining with her own

Ginny is merely silent, a soft, warm smile on her face, head quirked as she looks at him. (The love and adoration and silent thanks that shines in her eyes nearly staggers him, throws him for a loop. It’s been three months and a handful of days and already… already there’s that? It should scare him, possibly, but it doesn’t. It just makes him feel something akin to pride. Despite all odds, she chooses him.) “Goodnight, Mike.” She murmurs, reaching up and pressing a kiss against his cheek. 

“Night, Gin.”

* * *

An hour later when he gets back to his own apartment he finds a text from her on his phone.

_You still owe me take-out and movies, old man. X_

He grins.


	2. first introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldn't resist posting this even tho i only JUST released this today? sigh. also: i'm back on tumblr! my url is _giinnybakers_ so if you'd like to scream about mike and ginny, pitch, drop me a prompt or even just come on by to chat, that's your place!
> 
> as always, all typos & shitty sentence structure belongs to me while pitch & all it's characters do not.

“You want me to do _what_?”

Ginny levels him with a look through the bathroom mirror before ducking down and spitting out the toothpaste. “You heard me.”

“I know. That’s why I wanna hear it again so I’m sure I’m not going crazy.”

Tension ripples through her shoulders and he can see that he’s pushing it, pushing her. “I want you to meet my brother.”

In all honesty, it’s not an insane request. She’s met his sister, even though that was by pure chance and the two happened to be at the same bar one night. So, really, meeting her brother in a more formal setting is possibly a good idea, just – Mike never really expected her to spring it on him while he’s debating whether or not to shower before bed.

“Why?” (He’s flashing back to the last time he even met the family of someone he was dating and… it was _Rachel_.)

Ginny doesn’t say anything for a moment, too busy rinsing out her mouth before she spins, leaning against the bathroom counter with arms crossed over her Christ. “Because he’s my brother? Because he’s the only family still managing to talk to me?” He knows that the wounds of her mother telling her, point blank, that she doesn’t like baseball and that in her opinion, it stole her daughter from her is something she’ll never get over. He knows that family not always understanding how much they need the game, depend on it, view it as the be all, end all – it can take it’s toll.

He wishes he could heal those wounds but he knows from experience only she can do that. 

“Yeah, I get that part I’m just – wondering why.” (Looking back on this situation, it’s here Mike will realize that he made his mistake – he’ll look back and realize she wants you to meet her brother because he’s family and Will Baker’s opinion of her boyfriends are going to matter, especially since Bill Baker is no longer with the world.)

Her toothbrush slams into the tiny little pot with more than was strictly nessecary. “Because I want you too. Because I think we’re at that stage. I don’t really know how much clearer I can put it, _Lawson_.”

Mike flinches. Now he’s really done it. When either one of them switch from first names to last names, some invisible line has been crossed, but he can’t even fix it since she’s brushing past him, heading for bed and seemingly done with the conversation.

That night the two of them fall asleep, backs facing each other and stony silence filling the space. (It’s the first night they’ve gone to bed without having sex.)

* * *

 He manages to catch ahold of her inbetween training that morning, and looping a hand around her upper arm, Mike softly tugs Ginny to a stop. “Hey, hey, woah, with me, slugger.”

Ginny glares at him, but doesn’t fight the hold he has on her arm, so really, he’s counting that as a win. “I’m still mad at you.” 

Mike exhales roughly. “The last time I met someone’s family was with Rachel.”

“Okay?” She frowns. She knows, in abstracts shards of memory, the parts Mike was willing to share that didn’t cut at him when he gave them to her. Which, admittedly, he’s happy to note is most of them.

(The affair with David, how it nearly destroyed him and it took Evelyn and Blip and a severe amount of alcohol to get him off the floor; how baseball saved him and kept him occupied and tired enough that he’d pass out without images of the two of them in his head.)

“I _married_ Rachel.” He says, tone undercut by an edge of seriousness.

“…Oh.”

He smirks softly. “Yeah. _Oh_.”

“I didn’t – mean,” She rushes to explain.

“I know.” Deciding to break one of their rules he reaches forward, tucking an errant curl behind her, fingertips trailing over the curve of her cheekbone, “But just because you don’t think it doesn’t mean I don’t as well.” 

“Okay.” She nods. 

“We good?” He questions, an eyebrow raising. 

Ginny reaches up, her forehead pressing against Mike's. “Always, old man.”

* * *

The world is out to get him. That’s the only possibly explanation because of all the times to be fucking late, it was to be _now_. He had left his apartment with plenty of time to spare,

He doesn’t even have time to appreciate this nice, flowing summer dress she’s donned for the evening because he’s so fucking late and the look on her face quite clearly suggests bloody murder. (And he’s seen that look, seen it whenever Trevor Davis steps into the box. That look is _not_ his friend.)

Her lips purse. “I was going to cut you tiny pieces if you didn’t show.” 

“Blame the damn traffic.”

She snorts. “That’s not reassuring.”

He huffs a breath, palms smoothing along the skin of her upper arms - trying and hoping to assure that he’s here, that he wants to be here and he’s late because of the damn traffic and not because he was wasting time. “I’m sorry. Is he still here?”

Ginny sighs and nods. “Yeah. This way.” 

With her hand intertwined in his, she leads him through the restaurant to the back half, because God forbid TMZ gets a picture of this. Coming to a stop in front of man Mike recognizes from the pictures, he smiles slightly.

“Will, this is Mike, my… boyfriend.”

He tries not to choke on his tounge since, for all intents and purposes, that’s the first time she’s ever introduced him as that to someone. (It’s always _Mike_ or _Lawson_ or _my catcher_ or _the idiot I work with_. Never _boyfriend_.)

But the look she’s giving him: full of love and adoration and pride, he thinks it’s worth it. That she’s worth it. It’s not exactly a new thought, on his part – he had it back on that day against the Cardinals and she waded head first into a beanball war because she felt like she had too, because she owed it to her team and she owned it to him and to fucking Tommy, who historically, had treated her like shit. If he wants to get technical, he’s known she was worth it when he witnessed her spark and fire upfront how she deftly went from slapping asses to Leonardo DiCaprio. 

“Mike, this is Will, my brother.” (It is not lost on Mike that Ginny is deftly placed between the two. 

He reaches a hand out to shake Will’s hand, doesn’t even have to pretend that the shake isn’t frim and not dripping with every damn warning a big brother possesses. (And he should know, since he is one too.) 

Conversation flows nicely, easily. They talk about the games and the upcoming buckle down games where they hope to either get a Wild Card or make it to the playoffs in their own right. They talk about family and the early days of Ginny in Texas and when she was still playing Winter Ball in hell-holes Mike is so utterly thankful to be out of.

It’s a pointed and timed getaway from Ginny to the bathroom that things really start to get interesting.

Will Baker, for all intents and purposes, has the same the steely look that his sister has and Mike’s fairly certain it came from the mystical Bill Baker. “Look – I’m gonna be upfront about this.” He sighs. “I don’t like this.” He gestures around the restaurant and he knows he means _MikeandGinny_ and _GinnyandMike_. Mike only sort of hates how his heart plunges at the words Will speaks. “I don’t like you. Ginny’s barely 26 and she’s dating a dude that’s barely 39.”

A bitter laugh falls from Will’s lips and with crossed arms he leans back in his chair.

“But… Ginny’s got Dad’s stubborn gene. Used to frustrate the fuck out of him back home. She makes her own choices. And for some fucked up reason, she’s chosen to throw her eggs in with your ass.” And then Will’s looking at him – really looking at him – as if he’s trying to figure out what’s so damn special about Mike Lawson that has his smart, strong and wickedly talented kid sister head over hells and utterly enthralled. 

“And not even I can deny the fact there’s a spark in her eyes that hasn’t been there in a long time.” Will’s eyes cloud over, as if he’s remembering Bill Baker and the horror show that was the Baker’s in the aftermath of loosing their father.

Ginny returns before Will can fall too much into memory lane. “Oh good. I was worried you too might have killed each other.”

Mike snorts. “Nah that’s coming after desert.”


End file.
